Trinity Blood: Crimson Stigmata
by IncubusSuccubus
Summary: [Rewrite] Harry was not completely embraced in the vampirism ritual: the Rites of Bloodlust. Within the school, a new trouble is brewing. Please read the cautionary warning before continue. Slash. LM x HP x SS.
1. Nascentes morimur

Warning: Vampire, blood, darkness, angst, slash, AU, OOC, necromancy, beast, incest, BDSM, chan. Rated R-NC17. You've been warned!  
Pairing: as of now confirmed LMxHPxSS and RLxHG  
Thank you for my betas: Maxim, Polluxa and Che Gilson  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belonged to J.K Rowling or otherwise stated.

**Excerpt from the CHRONICLE: The History. ID No. V01c30F1999/XIIIth Generation.**

_We were not supposed to be involved, you and I. The war game did not belong to us but to them. But the foolishness of men, the curiosity that killed us all, was tempting even to the saintliest of us._

_We were neither and either, magical and non magical. We were blinded by the power of the Gods; not knowing the fate that binds them could destroy our faith. _

_Their sins we should not disturb. _

_Theirs._

_Not ours._

**Crimson 0: Chiaroscuro – Clear Dark**

He closed the book with the love of someone living far beyond age and generations. He carefully laid his glasses on the table and gazed outside the window with old eyes. The wrinkles on his forehead eased, and his posture relaxed on the old rickety chair. His mind traveled back, to the time before until the time he lived through afterwards.

He remembered laughter and tears and the eras of men then.

He remembered a family, a child and a destiny, and what could be and could not.

Two children hands embraced him from both sides. Their childish smile on pink faces brought the light from the dark recesses of his mind. He laughed with them and patted their heads.

He regretted the war and the death(s).

But he never regretted living and loving.

**Trinity Blood: Crimson Stigmata**  
By IncubusSuccubus

**Excerpt from the CARNIVAL: The Tale of Lillith. Introduction**

_I'm Lillith - _it began - _the Queen of the Night, the Mother. I'm the first. When I started the first coffin, we were called the Fallen Ones. Now they call us the Vampires, the Undead, the Kindred, with respect, and Monsters, Bloodsuckers, Sinners, for mockery. _

_In the beginning, the first Coffin was born from my heart: the hatred, the love, my revenge and my salvation. My heart died and was reborn to change everything I touched. _

_Until my true death, I watched my children be born, flourish. I watched them live. I watched them feed and hunt and be hunted. I watched them drown in bloodlust. I watched them driven into insanity. And I watched them die._

**Crimson I: ****_Nascentes morimur. - From the moment we are born, we die._**

The cemetery was not a place where he usually hung out, despite his inhuman and undead nature. Unfortunately, a burst of strong magical power had erupted an hour prior somewhere in Surrey, England. By the command of his superior, he had dispatched several of his brethren to cover the eleven boroughs. Finally, he was able to pinpoint the source in a town called Little Whinging. For a small town and a dense community, it had a rather large burial mound in the middle of the forest. Hence, there he was now, trying not to dirty his expensive robes. He tightened them, making sure his figure was tucked hidden under the hood.

The man sighed as he maneuvered between the death and decay from the dead trees, between rows and rows of dark gray tombstones, personal mausoleum to some long dead and forgotten Saxon. His eyes glowed in gray blue in the darkness, searching, gliding until he found what he was looking for. He knelt before the body sprawled across a grave.

The boy (he assumed it was a boy, despite the fey like creature body of the creature), he observed, had the after taste of the power that only the dark creatures could sense. He was glad he'd found it first before the other creatures of the night.

He quickly made several assessments, cataloguing the boy's features. While the boy seemed familiar, he didn't make the connection until later. The boy was in his early teens, lithe and malnourished.

The boy was literally cut and bruised in several places; darkened blue and red decorated his pale white skin;, some broken ribs, a broken arm and shoulder, everything pointed to abuse. The man shook his head. Whoever hurt the boy, hurt him really bad. He was disgusted of what humans could do. And /they/ called his kind monsters.

He could still feel the subdued power, the youth, the innocence and the sweetness that radiated from the small figure, tantalizing his senses like cherry spice wine and dark chocolate. His nature screamed to claim the boy. The craving and desire were so strong, he barely held down his lust. He breathed in deeply, calming his nerves. The boy was too young, but yes, he could have a taste and mark him as his.

As if he was in trance, he held the boy. His heart throbbed with a sense of wrongness, but his desire won over his mind. "I shall bind thee, in blood and honor." He tilted the boy upright, revealing a long, endless strip of white skin. He nuzzled the delectable neck, couldn't resist to taste. His long golden hair fell from under the hood, brushing, framing their world for two. He gave a soft lingering kiss and a lick before sinking his teeth into the flesh.

The boy jerked upright and emitted a strangled cry. He pinned the boy to prevent unnecessary movement that could break the Contract. He drank hungrily and felt the barely audible heartbeat slowing down into a beat per second. The blood pumped fast through the circulatory system, from the boy's body into his heart's atriums and out from the ventricles through the aorta to the smaller arteries. The valves clanged open and close faster. It was loud in his ears, that which only he and the boy could hear (if he was conscious enough), vibrating, into the deep core of their hearts and souls. His body cells soon adapted to the boy's rich magic, imprinted into his own as the blood spread all over his body through his veins.

He indulged in the delicious taste so much that he barely heard a soft gasp of surprise. When he looked up from his lust-induced daze, he met up the cold, stormy black eyes of his companion.

The man, younger than him by years, lowered his gaze. "What have you done?"

"The boy is dying, and I won't let him," stated the blonde, still drunk but managing to think clearly.

"But, don't you know who he is?" said the deep, rich, dark voice, void of emotion. It was as if the younger man were suppressing any emotion out.

The blonde gazed down and smirked. "Yes, I know now. It's no wonder the boy is that strong, if he could temp me to the point I gave in. A pity to let a pretty boy die when he can be so much more."

The other dark, wiry body was stiff, shadowy-like, while the blonde and the boy looked alive and ethereal. "…" He frowned. "I…" He stopped and watched as his blond-haired companion had his whole attention at the boy and ignored his presence. He saw his companion's eyes reflect a tenderness he'd never seen before. He bit his lower lip and looked away. He could do nothing anyway. The First Covenant of the series of three, sacred blood and magic, was done. His chest throbbed.

At last the mark was done. The ownership seal glowed on the boy's neck before it disappeared under his skin. The blonde tipped in a quarter vial of blood into the boy's lips. His own blood mixed with potion. It tasted strange and salty, and bitter, and sweet at the same time.

The warmth that spread all over the body was like fire, inducing the boy's cold body in a flaming touch, burning his soul into life. The boy jerked again, still unconscious, lips moving as if he tried to say something.

/_Heartbeat_/

The man smiled. "He's going to live."

/_Heartbeat_/

The dark-eyed man scoffed. "Of course he will. He's the Boy Who Lived." The boy opened his eyes, still half-closed and dilated. The confused young one showed a little life, and it was enough.

/_Heartbeat_/

Another chuckle. "Ah yes," he murmured. He lifted up his face and stared at the dark eyes. "One more thing to do." He gazed back to the child in his embrace while his other hand took out his wand and pointed it at the boy. The man stared deeply into the emerald eyes, wishfully. Then a soft whisper, so soft, like the wind. "

/_Obliviate_/."

/_Heartbeat_/

The last thing the boy could remember was seeing a pair of inhumanly silver blue eyes, and a few long strains of golden hair. And there was a brilliant light.

/_Heartbeat_/

And there was nothing.

/_Stop_/

**_ Nascentes morimur _**

_A soft kiss on his forehead._

_A lingering warm breath on his damp cold skin._

_Gentle touches, warm loving embrace._

_A searing desirable pain on his neck._

_A cry of ecstasy_

_He couldn't remember the face of this dream shadow._

_All he could do was to feel the painful lust invoked in those touches._

**_ Nascentes morimur _**

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, sixteen years old and single, just woke up from his dream. A feeling of melancholy washed over his body as he tried to chase away the remnants of his sleepiness.

The day had just started; it was the crack of dawn. Normally, the Golden Boy was a heavy sleeper. But on the rainy days season, when his body felt numb and sadness crept into loneliness in his heart, Harry would dream.

And it felt so real and so unreal at the same time.

He couldn't describe it. He couldn't tell his friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. How could he, when his dream involved hands, hot kisses (with tongues!) and hard (male) bodies, hips against hips, rubbing against him in an old age rhythm?

Damn hormones.

Why couldn't he be normal for once? Oh the safe-crush-on-female ones that his roommates often talked about.

He just had to be gay.

Not that he cared or minded. Although the general populace of the magical world didn't care about teenagers' experiments, they expected the children to grow up and marry and make a family.

Great. Just great. Because he knew for sure he wasn't interested in females (after that fifth year debacle – insert shudders of horror here – with Cho Chang and Ginevra Weasley). He found himself admiring Cedric Diggorry's fine ass, on the broom, or the wild, feral look on Bill and Charlie Weasley. Even Malfoy, yes, the DRACO Malfoy was hot, in that sort of icy, rich bastard way.

Problem was, his friends were either taken or straight. Or both. Or Gay AND taken.

Harry had had a share of lovers. Secretive and satisfying, somewhat, but not fulfilling. He often found the boys his age and younger were in for the trill of 'I've done it but it wasn't my thing'. Like his past boyfriend, Neville, who he heard was now dating that Ravenclaw girl, a year younger, Luna Lovegood. And then there was 'make the other boy jealous by dating the Boy Who Lived,' like Seamus Finnegan (who was still chasing after the oblivious Dean Thomas) or Justin, who preferred his older man at the States. Things weren't going well for the Boy Who Lived, no matter how famous he was.

The thing was, Harry wanted a lover who saw him as 'Harry', with all the faults and imperfections. And he wanted older, more experienced man (men?) who knew how to make love to him and shared the most intimate details of their lives. The most important thing was, he (they) understand his occasional darkness (not evil).

Yes. Harry bloody Potter was doomed.

Harry, awake and unable to go back to sleep, peered behind the heavy blood-red drapery around his bed. His roommates, lazy as they were, were still fast asleep. If he guessed correctly, it was still six am, with two more hours before they were awake. Today was Sunday after all.

He rubbed his forehead absentmindedly, just over his lightning scar. God. It had been two years since the dreams started. Last night's dream had been intense: a long wooden stick with a snake's head between his ass cheeks and a hot mouth licking and sucking his prick – which hardened already from such a thought.

Harry touched his swollen lips. He could still taste the dream lover's lips over his, warm, moist and like molten dark chocolate. He shivered from the thought. The dreams also came when his adolescent impulse heightened.

He really, really hated the fritillary of youth. Damn, damn hormones.

He really needed a boyfriend. Or two.

Quickly, Harry took care of the, err, problem, and a Scourgify later, he was good to leave the confines of his bed. And took a long shower (and another round of relieving his libido, while his friends were asleep and the shower stalls were empty and the door was locked tight, secure with a silencing spell).

Refreshed, he went down to grab some early breakfast.

**_ Nascentes morimur _**

Harry wasn't surprised when he found one of his best friends, Hermione Granger, already at the table. Her dress was always immaculate – white clean shirt and the red and gold tie tucked under the dark brown school robes. Her pleated skirt rode slightly on her upper knees. Hermione's reddish brown hair was tied neatly. Harry wasn't that bad himself. He wasn't as prim as, say, Malfoy, or as spotless as Hermione. His white shirt was tucked in his dark pants, his top button was undone (saving his tie for before class).

Hermione was reading some obscure text with her reading glasses tucked on her nose. Harry smiled at that as he peered on her reading material and rolled his eyes. No more Wizarding politics (slaves, half-bloods, Muggleborn, creature rights). Ever since she advocated for house-elfs' rights (which they didn't want), she'd grown interested in various forms of the Law for Other Species, magical and non-magical, human and creatures. It was funny that Harry had cured his eyes and didn't need glasses anymore, but Hermione had acquired ones and refused to fix her eyes (they were NOT going to have their wand near her eyes. Period). Now she looked like a (naughty, as they teased her) librarian.

He wasn't against his friend learning all that stuff – education was important after all. Heck, Harry even supported some of Hermione's ideals of equality in jobs, marriage and society for all creatures, human or not. But Hermione seemed obsessed lately. Harry didn't know what she'd found last summer. But she was driven since then.

In any case, it was a better reading material for Hermione than quoting Hogwarts: _A History_.

"Good morning, Hermione," greeted the Boy Who Lived.

"Hmm." Hermione turned the page and looked up. "Oh, good morning, Harry. You're up early."

"Yeah, well…" He sat down beside his best friend, flopped his bag beside him and his robes on his knees. He filled his plate with sausage, eggs and toasts.

"And it's Sunday too." She grinned, her cheek puffed in pink hue. "Not that I mind."

"I just woke up early, that's all," said Harry, distracted while pilling his plate, not really looking at her.

Hermione frowned at Harry. Her glasses tilted a little. Her reading text lay forgotten on her lap. "It's not…" She was concerned for her young friend.

"No, no. It's not /him/," He paused as he picked up the fork and twirled it between his fingers. "I've been having dreams lately."

"Go on." She wrapped her hands together on her text.

"They are weird and embarrassing." He blushed and played with his fork.

She smirked and laughed softly. "Ah." She nodded again, understanding. She closed her textbook and put it on the table and faced him. "Does anyone ever talk to you about it?"

"Sirius, last year," said Harry, quietly, still not looking at her. They went silent for a while. The death of Sirius Black, Harry's godfather was still hurting him.

Hermione cleared her throat softly, "Ah, hem, so?"

Harry scratched the back of his head. It was hard to explain to Hermione how he felt. True, Hermione was more perceptive that his other friend, Ron, but in the other hand Hermione was a girl. "Yes, well, it is normal for a guy to have that kind of (wet) dreams, right?" Hermione nodded, and he continued, "But lately (like, in the past two months), those dreams are getting emotional."

"Like?"

"I feel strong feelings in this dreams. Like I'm drowning and I can't breathe. My chest is tight with emotion and my stomach feels like lead. It's like I…"

"Fall in love?"

"Yeah, maybe." Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he muttered, "It wasn't just sex anymore."

Hermione thought silently. "Do you know who's in that dream?" she asked.

"No. That's why it's confusing. Weird." Harry knew he (they) were males. His (their) body was hard to be a female's. Again, he felt a swell between his legs, which luckily was covered with his robes. He looked around, noticing there were only two of them in the Gryffindor table; the others were on the other tables and seated quite far from the two of them. He lowered his voice. "I want to make a confession."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"I'm gay."

"Oh." She paused. "Okay." She smiled as if she knew already.

Harry watched her expression and saw that she was uncomfortable but not against it or dramatic about it. "Okay."

Silence.

"Don't tell Ron," he said.

She snorted. "I'm not stupid. Although I don't think Ron would mind, Harry. Wizarding families are more open-minded than Muggle ones. We prefer a soul and magic match after all."

"I know, but not now. Ron can be rowdy and like hell I want everyone to know I'm gay. Maybe after … I figure out these dreams."

"Yeah, about that. You dreamt of having sex with a man?"

"Not sex." Harry shook his head. "Making love."

"And how did you know the difference?" She quirked an eyebrow and wiggled suggestively.

He blushed bright red. "I just knew. They are so… gentle and loving, I just can't shake the feeling of being loved (and possessed)."

"Wait, wait, they?" She gapped.

If possible, Harry's face became redder. "Yeah, two of them."

Hermione smiled then looked thoughtful. "Do you love them, Harry?"

"I…I don't know, Hermione."

"Do they love you?"

"I don't know," said Harry. He rubbed his face, brushing his bangs to the back. "They are weird dreams that I can't explain."

"Hum, perhaps I can research dreams and their meanings sometime today."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hermione. Not everything can be found in a book." He smiled.

Hermione smacked his friend on the arm lightly and smirked. "You never know, Harry Potter."

"Yeah, yeah, all right then," said Harry. He smiled at her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She grinned.

They laughed together and Harry went back to his breakfast while Hermione took his text and began reading again. They shared a good familiar, friendship banter between their meals and reading, unaware that they were being watched.

**_ Nascentes morimur _**

The silver blue eyes averted his eyes from the Gryffindor table, suddenly feeling sick. Now he regretted coming early. God. He would do anything to tear the wench away from /his/ Harry. By nature, he was a possessive creature. It was an agreeable condition to be jealous, with dignity. After all, he had a reputation to uphold, being his gorgeous blonde self. Now if only he could go on with his plan

It had been two months.

**_ Nascentes morimur _**

Professor Severus Snape, tall, dark, and not handsome but interestingly appealing, frowned as he gazed between two tables, Gryffindor and Slytherin. For one, Harry Potter and his chit were far too close to his liking. At the Slytherin side, a young blonde was up to something. And it was just the beginning of the school year too. God. Sometimes he hated his teaching job, Hogwarts, his annoying-luckily-not-here-yet boss. And Saint Potter. And blondes. He groaned inwardly and proceeded to drink his bitter (extra strong) black coffee.

**_ Nascentes morimur _**

Lunch came and the hall was filled with students from all houses and all years. The voice raised up several notches as every now and then some people cracked jokes or the jokes were on them. Several explosive laughs, banshees shrieking, hyenas howling were free for all on all tables. Oh, and food.

"Hmmm." Harry calmly ate his meatballs and potatoes. Hermione eat a triple-decked sandwich and read at the same time (the wonder of multitasking exclusively for women), and Ron inhaled, multiple types of food, as much as he could because he'd missed breakfast and growing boys just loved to eat, much to Hermione's disgust.

"What classes are you taking Harry? Are you going to drop any subject?" asked Hermione, after she'd finished reading, now perusing her schedule.

Harry thought for a few seconds, swallowed his food and drank his pumpkin juice before answering her friend. "I'm going to take Advanced Potions, Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, advanced Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures for my core subjects. Charms, Transfiguration, Basic Runes and Basic Arithmancy for electives. I'm dropping Divination."

In their sixth year, they had the options to take and drop several classes after the first week to test their abilities and choose their future career. Harry was optioning to become an Auror or Curse Breaker/Peace Maker. "How about you, Hermione?"

"I'm taking Advanced Runes, Advanced Arithmancy, Advanced Charms, Advanced Transfiguration for my core subjects and Advanced Runes, Advanced Herbology and Advanced Potions for electives," said Hermione as she wrote down her choices and fit them in her schedule. They had to hand over their schedule by tonight and have consistent scheduled classes by tomorrow.

"Ron?" asked Harry to his other friend, who luckily had finished gulping down his lunch.

Ron Weasley, the younger son of the Weasley family and Harry Potter's best friend, was rummaging in his bag and checking on his choices of electives. He too, wanted to take subjects for becoming an Auror or a Ministry Official like his father and older brother, Percy. "I'm not taking much advanced classes, just enough to enter the Auror division," he said. He borrowed Hermione's pen and wrote down subjects for his classes. "Let's see, Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, Advanced Charms, Advanced Divination for my core, Transfiguration, Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, and Muggle Studies for electives."

"And why are you still taking Divination?" asked Hermione, puzzled and a little bit ticked.

"Why not? Sometimes they have to pinpoint the crime scene with astral projections to determine the past events on the crime scene."

"He's right, you know, Hermione." Harry and Ron had researched their career choice during summer. Grimmauld Place, Sirius's home, was filled with books, and Sirius's journal (which contained his entry and works as an Auror) helped them determine the classes they wanted to take. Hermione knew this but she just didn't like Divination (and the teacher).

Hermione hemp-ed. "Then why are you dropping Divination, Harry, if you need it for Auror-ship?"

Harry shrugged.

"Coz Harry isn't going to homicide department like I do, Hermione. Right mate?"

Harry nodded. "I prefer Curse Breaking actually."

"It is a good career choice," she said.

"And what career are you taking?" asked Ron.

"I'm not sure yet. I can go to a research department," she said, excitedly. Then she launched on the possibilities of each Transfiguration, Charms and Potions research, when, where and what universities, labs and other facilities.

Ron and Harry knew their friend very, very well (including her temper). They listened to her and nodded appropriately because they were best friends forever (and a bit afraid of female hormones).

They talked until lunch was over, when the Headmaster called for Ron via their Head of House, Professor McGonagall. Hermione went to the library for her dream research as she'd promised Harry.

Having nothing to do, Harry went to get his broom and fly around a bit.

**_ Nascentes morimur _**

Professor McGonagall escorted Ron up to the Headmaster's office. After saying the password (lemon drop), she left the redhead boy and headed for her own office.

Ron was rightly nervous as he stood there waiting for the stair to the office to reveal itself. His parents had been secretive the whole summer. He didn't have anyone to talk to, with two of his older brothers working abroad, Bill as Curse Breaker in Gringotts, Egypt branch and Charlie in the Dragons reservation in Romania. He knew the two of them were in the Order's business along with their parents. And then there was Percy, who lived outside the house, working at the Ministry and loosing contact with the rest of the family. Fred and George also lived outside the house with their business (the WWW) booming, rivaling Zonko's joke shop. He supposed there was Ginevra – Ginny – Weasley. But Ginny was a girl, and younger. Sometimes Ron was…lonely, even in his own family.

As he walked up the stairs, he thought of the summer. The night before he and Ginny departed to their school, Arthur and Molly Weasley went to talk with him in their private study, without any of his siblings present. Everything talked in that hour was a secret of course, even to his best friends, Hermione and Harry. He swore secrecy (by his wand and magic).

It turned out that his parents had an important duty to the Wizarding world. Arthur explained, with details, what his role entailed. The youngest male of the family would be the [ Scribe , like his father and his father before that and always the youngest male.

A Scribe was like a secret recorder, even to his other siblings and friends. His job was to write down the specific happenings in the magical world in the [ Chronicles book. A writer such as Ron would have his own Chronicle book to write down the events that later would be history evidence for the use of the [ Watcher council.

Right now he needed to see the Headmaster on which event Ron should record.

Sometimes being best friends with Harry Potter had its perks. Ron had his share of jealousy toward his friend. But after the summer, he wondered if his quiet life was an illusion.

Ron was right to be very nervous for his upcoming task.

**_ Nascentes morimur _**

Hermione was driven, to put it mildly. Between her advanced classes and homework and tests and her promise to Harry, she was also researching the history behind the magical world. Politics and Law excited and angered her.

True, the people, humans in general, were hypocrites.

It was common for purebloods to look down upon half-bloods and Muggleborns. It was downright unfair to step on half creatures, especially dark creatures. Hermione could go on, ranting and cursing in several different languages in that subject alone.

And after she found out who she was and her family in the summer…

God.

Now she wondered if there were more people like her. Hidden in this school perhaps? In the magical and non-magical society?

She had a lot of questions and so few answers. Most of the books in the library didn't tell her much, and they were oppressing the magical creatures, Mythical and otherwise. They were portrayed negatively and a deviant, mutation of normal human and/or wizard kind.

She was afraid to ask, knowing the consequences just like she'd been warned during summer. But whom should she turn to? Not the Headmaster for sure. The old man was kind, sure, but he was a wizard. Witches and wizards tended to dislike magical creatures no matter what their view or say. She just could not trust the Headmaster or the other professors.

Hermione couldn't talk about it with Ron and Harry either. Not yet at least. They were best friends, but sometimes a secret makes a girl a woman. Or so her mother said.

Anyway, besides the books, she could always mail home. Perhaps her parents could send her some books. In their collections (which she didn't know until recently) perhaps?

They did owe her an explanation, longer than they'd been willing to share in the summer.

Sometimes she wondered if her life would go weirder than being a witch and best friend of the Boy Who Lived.

**_ Nascentes morimur _**

A night like this, dark with full moon, was mystical in her glory. Many magic ceremonies, events, happened in a night like this. The shadows were more prominent and longer; hiding was much easier for misfits and rule breakers.

Harry was late coming inside. Dinner was long over by then. He was exhausted from the long flight to clear his mind and refresh his body. He simply loved to fly and take a walk in the Forbidden Forest, then take another flight on the lake. The cool air was just so right during the night.

Walking across the field, then into the castle, hoisting his priceless broom, a Firebolt, Harry hurriedly passed the main hall before curfew. He was just running down the moving staircase before he slipped.

A pair of pale arms caught him and kept him from falling. "Really, Potter, a sixth year like you should know by now that the tenth step was narrower." Harry swore he could hear the smug bastard smirking. "Of course, knowing how 'Gryffindor' you are…" Might as well say Gryffindor stupidity.

Harry scowled and yanked his arm from the said blonde bastard. "Fuck off, Malfoy."

Draco Malfoy grinned slyly. "Really, Potter. I didn't know you swing that way."

Harry's face burned. Damn. Damn. Damn. Of all people he might've come across, it had to be the Silver Prince himself. He clutched his Firebolt to his chest as if protecting himself from the older bad boy.

Draco stared at the Boy Who Lived with his arrogant smirk, standing with an ego as big as the Tower of London, in his expensive, tailored to fit shirt, trousers and school robes.

The blonde boy laughed insultingly. "Anytime you want, Potter. I bet you'll /beg/ for me to fuck you." He stepped close to the wonder boy. Harry had no choice but to back against the railing. "And I bet you scream nicely." Too bad there was a broom between them or else he'd have already pressed himself against that delicious body.

The wonder boy snarled. His face was as red as a tomato. Then his green eyes flashed as he smirked slowly. "Talking from experience, Malfoy?"

"Do you want to know, Potter?" His grey blue eyes glinted. Draco placed his hands on the railing on Harry's either sides, successfully trapping the green-eyed boy.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Draco Malfoy was good. But Harry Potter wouldn't go down without a fight. "Yes. As a matter of a fact I do."

Draco brought his face closer to Harry's, almost touching. Harry could feel the heat of the Silver Prince's body seeping into his own. He was aware his body was responding to it and arching to meet the older boy. Harry cursed himself for letting it go this far. Cursed his body's reaction, his hormones and damn Draco Malfoy to hell. Why, oh, why he had to be, oh, so irresistibly sexy?

"Really, Potter?" whispered the silver blue-eyed seduction (and Harry personal tormentor). His warm breath caressed Harry's sensitive ear.Oh. God.

He was so, so close to taste that tantalizing skin. Harry's blood was pumping wildly under the musky scent that would drive anyone crazy.

Harry strengthened his resolve and pushed Draco away. "Don't." He shamefully retreated. But instead of gloating, Draco just looked at him with unreadable eyes.

His temperature was still high, and he was hard. He had to admit he was attracted to the blonde. But this boy was Draco Malfoy, for God's sake.

Draco's gaze almost burnt him, and he was almost consumed in that heat.

With his will and dignity somewhat intact, he walked away, thankfully whole and sane. Harry knew Draco was watching him but didn't stop him, didn't taunt him like usual.

Draco Malfoy was indeed an enigma. He'd changed this year (still having the holier than thou attitude, but bearable), unlike the first five years they'd been unwillingly acquainted. More mature perhaps but no more than a prat, decided Harry.

Harry kept walking, aware of those silver blue eyes boring on the back of his head.

**_ Nascentes morimur _**

Malfoy watched the Boy Who Lived walk away and sighed wishfully. The Wonder Boy, undeniably, aroused him like no other man (or woman) could or ever wished. He had to admire that Quiddicth toned body. That sparkling deviant green eyes. He would take so much pleasure in taming the boy.

"Mr. Malfoy, pray tell me what are you doing after curfew?"

The blonde turned around, hands in the back of his trouser pockets, standing proudly. He grinned slyly at his Head of House. "Yes, Severus?"

The Potions Master twitched visibly and sighed. He stared at the impudent blonde. "Let me rephrase that. What are you doing here?" He stepped closer and stopped a few short feet away. Snape's dark smoky voice came out low and smooth; the other's name came out as if gliding of the tip of his tongue. "Lucifier?"

**_ Nascentes morimur _**** fin** 191007  
**TBC to Somnia Memorias**

A/N: New version of Trinity Blood. For the record, this fic is not a crossover with the anime/novel/manga titled Trinity Blood nor the game 'Magnacarta: Crimson Stigmata'. Thank you. )

A/N 2: Due to the nature (coughwarningcough) of this fic, I have the back up and future NC17 rated in my deviant dot com account. incubussuccubus dot deviantart dot com

Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment or two.


	2. Somnia Memorias

Warning: Vampire, blood, darkness, angst, slash, AU, OOC, necromancy, beast, incest, BDSM, chan. Rated R-NC17. You've been warned!  
Pairing: as of now confirmed LMxHPxSS and RLxHG   
Thank you for my beta: Maxim  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belonged to J.K Rowling or otherwise stated.

**Trinity Blood: Crimson Stigmata**  
By IncubusSuccubus

**Excerpt from the CARNIVAL: The Tale of Lillith. Introduction (Continued)**

_I was once a human. A normal girl with an ordinary dream: a beautiful wedding, a husband, children, and a family. _

_A life. _

_Such a dream for a young girl in the cups of adulthood. _

_Such a fairytale dream … long forgotten now, but before…_

_I was twenty years old. Twenty springs had passed by without so much of a thrill. I studied at home with the best tutors in the country. I had everything a little spoiled princess could have; riches, beauty, kindness, and my loving father. _

_My father was the little town minister. He was strict but kind, strong-headed but gentle. We were one happy family. My mother, on the other hand, died giving life to me. She named me before her last breath. I was named after the flowers she loved, Lilies. My father added my second name, Ederlina._

_Then, I fell in love._

_I was young and foolish. And I was in love with that man, the one and only, my Enrique. _

_My Beloved. _

_My cousin._

**Crimson II: ****_Somnia Memorias. – Dream Memories_**

The air was colder and biting in the dungeon. Really, the blonde thought, to pick living quarters in such an environment was not good for someone's health, no matter what his or her nature was. The blonde boy with silver blue eyes was amused. Discarding his outer robes, he was now comfortably seated on the dark green settee.

The fireplace was lit and soon the chamber warmed. The fire flickered playfully, enchanting the blonde boy. He couldn't help but be fascinated by it – deadly to his kind, yes, but almost too beautiful to resist and to touch.

Even his friend sometimes wondered about his sanity. He loved to play with fire, his friend once said. He smiled inwardly and breathed in deeply. The chamber and the fireplace smelled of sandalwood, herbs and spice, just like the owner.

Said owner just walked in with two cups and a teapot with hot water. He'd had time to observe his blonde companion. He admitted the young and innocent teenager look that the blonde sported was disconcerting, as he knew the blonde was anything but these.

The now young boy was so young, dressed in his Hogwarts white shirt (stretched fittingly over broad chest and shoulders) and dark brown trousers (to suit his well-toned body). His green and silver tie and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a glimpse of white milky skin.

"Tea, Luce?" he asked as he set the tea on the coffee tables between the two settees. His black robes pooled around him as he sat down before the fireplace, opposite to Lucifier.

"Yes, please," said the blonde. "Thank you, Severus."

Severus prepared the tea for the two of them. Elegant white bony hands unfolded two thin paper wrappers and poured their content into the teapot. They waited for a while for the tea to sit in before Severus poured for the two of them.

They sat there in silence. Lucifier's eyes looked around, taking in the changes in the chamber. It had been so long. The walls were still dark green and blackened grey. Severus maintained the minimal lighting and only true elves firelight lit the chamber.

Severus caught the blonde's eyes. "I'd rather you dropped your glamour, Luce. It was compromising to host a 'student' after curfew, in my private chamber," he said, dryly.

Lucifier smirked. "Afraid I would ruin your reputation, Severus?"

The Dark Wizard scowled darkly. "I'm not one of your toys. Save it for Potter."

The blonde blinked. "I did," he said blankly. "But you've always been my favourite…to tease."

Severus sighed. "Lucifier Draconis Malfoy…"

"Okay, fine," pouted the persona of the young child. His silver blue eyes glinted playfully. A bit of his blood and a spell later, the blonde boy unlocked his glamour, releasing the tie of magic from his core. The changes were quick; his body was taller, heavier, his blonde hair was longer. Lucifier's face became angular, with a strong jaw and an older, aristocrat face. His uniform altered to fit his new height and body.

Severus watched his friend transformed. Gone the youth, he'd been replaced by an older, more experienced man. Lucifier and he went a long way. He was older by several centuries and was there when Severus was reborn. He frowned. "You shouldn't use your 'fake' family to wander in the castle, Luce. What if someone sees you? Or Heaven forbid, the Headmaster?"

"Relax, Severus. Even as powerful as Albus Dumbledore is, he can't see pass blood magic," said Lucifier, relaxing on the settee. "Besides, this 'Draco Malfoy', my /son/, is a Prefect. And in the Slytherin tradition, he has his own room."

"I don't like it, Luce. The Headmaster is suspicious at best. Not to mention he and the others are partial to the other side of the war."

"I'll be careful, Severus," pacified the blonde. "I'm rather worried about our mutual friends." He sneered. "Rumour has it the Dark Lord was not as dead as the Headmaster said."

"Yes," agreed Severus. "The Headmaster called an Order meeting a week before. There were evil activities' sightings in Romania. What about your side?"

"The Rat contacted me." Lucifier took the cup from the table and sipped the tea before continuing. "The snivelling creature has the gal to give me orders from the Dark Lord." _Dark Lord my pale aristocrat ass,_ thought Lucifier. The half-blood moron couldn't even resurrect himself properly. Even so…"I'm concerned for the new restored form of You Know Who."

"So does Albus," sighed Severus. It was going to be a long year. Their kind has already its own problems, now they had to clean other messes as well.

"Yes, the Headmaster should be worried. He didn't get the 'Saviour' he wanted. The Longbottom boy is pathetic, and I'm not going to hand over Potter."

The Potions Master scowled. "Aside from the brat, we should focus on the Dark Lord. We don't know where he's been since the brat blasted him out of this plane."

"The Princeps has some ideas."

"Lord Cain has contacted you?"

"Yes. He asked me to come back. I prefer to stay at Hogwarts. Potter is young still, and the bond is weak."

"You did bond him even when you knew he has another name."

"I know." Lucifier sighed. "But I have to return."

"And Potter? What if something happens to the boy?"

"Ah, you can protect him, right Sevvie?"

Severus glowered. "Don't. Call. Me. THAT. Name."

"Why not? Severus is rather long and you did shorten my name."

"Yours is proper. Sevvie, however, is not."

"Aw, but Sevvie…"

The man glared.

Lucifier chuckled. "Fine, fine." He finished his tea and stood up. "I leave the day after tomorrow. Give the Headmaster an excuse, will you?"

"That shouldn't be a problem. I can tell him your fake family has a small gathering. Your 'wife' should be pleased to see his prodigal son home." Honestly, disguising as Draco Malfoy. Granted, the boy and the mother were not in London or anywhere in England at the moment. They were someone else's toys, which Lucius had borrowed for his sick game.

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Severus."

"Just go away, Luce."

Lucifier laughed as he leaved under the disguise of the young Slytherin Prefect.

After the blonde left, the exhausted Potions Master leaned and relaxed under the warm glow of the fireplace. Yes, he would protect the boy, and Lucifier knew it and Severus hated it.

**_ Somnia Memorias _**

Lucifier Draconis Malfoy, born Lucian D' (Dragoon) Mal Foi was having fun between his duty to spy for the Princeps, Cain, to be the current Dark Lord's fake follower and to be the Malfoy patriarch, Lucius Malfoy. In his spare time, he disguised as his 'son', Draco Malfoy, who currently was non-existent. A French Noble descendant, Malfoy was a branch of the Mal Foi lineage, rumoured to have a connection with the Royal French blood.

Severus Solvanus Snape, born Septimus Severe Prince, preferred a quiet time, a good book and tea. Rumoured to be a Slytherin half-blood Prince who changed his name to Snape, grumbling between his teaching job and spying for the Princeps, also a fake member of the Order of the Phoenix under the Headmaster of Hogwarts and a fake Death Eater for the current Dark Lord, Severus was originally Romany, famous for their dark hair, dark eyes and Dark Magic.

Together, they'd infiltrate the Wizarding World since the middle 70's, slipping unnoticed by the [ Watchers , under the Ministry's eyes and the Headmaster's beard.

They started easily enough: magical students entering their first year at Hogwarts, establishing the life of normal wizards (albeit dark, but not evil).

Under the orders of Cain, Lucius worked in the Ministry as a Hogwarts School Governor upon graduation. The Pure-blooded Malfoy was ripe enough to be recruited by the Dark Lord by then. Cain was counting on it to plant his spy within the Dark Lord's ranks. Sure enough, the name and Lucifier's talent as a politician gained enough trust and his inclusion in the Inner circle.

While Lucius was busy, Severus Snape accepted the apprenticeship for the position of Potions Master, with the Headmaster's recommendation, to one Nicholas Flamel. With his Potions skill, Severus was also accepted in the Death Eater circle, despite his half-blood status. Being friends with Lucius was a sure guarantee. The Dark Lord encouraged Severus to accept the Potions Master job in Hogwarts, wanting a spy in Dumbledore's staff and the Order of the Phoenix.

Then Severus admitted to Dumbledore that the Dark Lord sent him, and he wanted out. Dumbledore agreed to have Severus in return for spying for the Death Eater, not knowing the double spy was thrice a spy for the Princeps.

Cain's calculation was set surrounding Hogwarts, the Dark Lord and the Headmaster. Hogwarts as the prime battleground, rich with old magic and wards strong enough.

His black chess pieces were placed. The other factions may have the first move, but he has countered it. Now he was waiting for his enemy to make the next.

Ah, so much to do in so little time.

**_ Somnia Memorias _**

Harry remembered when he was little. He was an odd boy, too skinny, too small for a boy of his age. His family often called him a freak. They hated him, but had no choice but take him in. He was, though barely, fed and clothed. Even the cupboard under the stair was bearable, but no seven-year-old boy he knew shared the same living place.

They also called him a monster, although only children believed in monsters under the stairs (or in the closet, or under the bed). His uncle and aunt were silly like that, or so he thought.

Nah.

They just really, really hated him.

The verbal abuse could go on as long as they wanted, not physically damaging but screwing his head somewhat. No. Never. He got a smack there perhaps, or a hit on his arm for being a no-good freak. The Dursleys were afraid. Fear for the unknown often made people hurt the thing they feared.

Harry supposed it was no different in the Wizarding World. They might be strong magically, purebloods even, powerful among the people, more than the Muggles. But they were not invincible. Other creatures, the ones they hated, were more powerful. They made the law then, to repress the non-human creatures and the Halfbreeds. They hid themselves behind the law. The Muggles they so detested and looked down upon were larger than life, with their technology to compensate the lack of magic and by sheer numbers. And yet, they were too proud.

Truly. Stupid.

**_ Somnia Memorias _**

Hermione couldn't even remember normal. What was normal? A normal girl was going to school: learning different languages, math, chemistry, biology, social sciences, etc. A normal girl surely was not a witch.

Hermione always thought her family was normal. Even if she was a witch in training. A dentist father, a workingwoman mother. They had a decent house, two storages, complete with electronic kitchen, a living room with a television and an entertainment set and a wonderful garden in the upper scale London.

She was wrong.

Gahh. She nearly tore his bushy hair apart. How many more secrets did her parents have anyway? They were not magical, but they did give birth to her. Even without magic, their talents, their intelligence was higher than the average. Heck. They gave birth to the smartest witch in the sixth year.

Hermione was not a patient young woman. She mailed her request to her parents. Their reply was to wait for their family friend to come and explain it to her.

Hermione really hated waiting.

**_ Somnia Memorias _**

Ron Weasley couldn't remember ever not being normal. He was a wizard. He was magical, and it was ordinary in his world.

He wasn't special. Anything he would do, his older brothers had already done (Head boy, Quiddicth, Prefect, Pranksters). Sure, he was Harry's friend. He envied him. It was petty. But now he didn't want it anymore. The fame, the fans, the publicity. The Danger. Death.

He was glad, oh he was, having an ordinary life, and his family (father, mother, brothers and sister) together with him. Because Harry was not.

Then he felt ashamed.

He didn't understand before, but now he did.

He could be proud. He matured.

And when he thought he would lead an ordinary life, the reality of Hogwarts and its fate came into his life.

The Headmaster had given him the [ Chronicle . The particular key event he needed to scribe. A responsibility. He was special, they said.

And he didn't want it so much anymore.

**_ Somnia Memorias _**

Dinner was somewhat quiet. The students were generally tired on Mondays. They saved their energies for homework for the rest of the week. Or for any other activities.

On the Gryffindor table, the talk went on and on for the upcoming Quiddicth game. It was the first game of the season, Slytherin versus Gryffindor.

Harry had to admit, under the leadership of the newly reformed Draco Malfoy, their tactics were (dare he say it to his friends?) cleaner, but trickier. Ron would probably maim him for even suggesting Malfoy had a brain to think of such clever moves.

They. Were. In. Denial. In Harry's honest opinion.

He, on the other hand, appreciated a worthy rival. Winning against weak opponents became a bore after a time. Harry discussed his plan with Angelina, their Quiddicth Captain. Ron still mourned for the fact Harry was not taking the captaincy and the Prefect duty for their year. He'd left the Prefect duty for the male dorm for Neville. It was about time to boost his Gryffindor moral.

Harry laughed at something Hermione'd said. She'd never understand the game. 'Boys,' she always said, 'have eyes only for sport, sex, and booze; for everything else, there's a woman.' Most of the boys denied it, some grinned and all the girls gave catcalls for the smart witch.

**_ Somnia Memorias _**

Laughter exploded once again from the rowdiest house in Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy found himself envious of the House of the Lion. When he was Lucius and still a student, he had companionship like that; those were the darker days when they were rebels. The generation now, on the other hand, lacked lustre.

Under the real Draco, they were dull and lifeless. He supposed Draco being a controllable puppet had its uses, being pretty like a doll, Nefertiti's exotic pet he'd borrowed just for show.

But now he was here again. Within weeks, he brought back all of the Slytherin glory. Taking back the hierarchy of command within the Snake House, he ruled supreme. Being a charismatic and noble Malfoy helped.

He watched the Lion's table again and almost snarled as he watched the Granger chit touching /his/ Harry, again, and sitting a tad too close. It took his whole centuries of control not to storm his way there and separate the two.

No. He was not jealous. He was possessive.

He swore; he would have to make a move soon.

**_ Somnia Memorias _**

Severus Snape looked up from his meal. He was rightly worried for his friend. They were shadows underneath their lives. They were spies. Lucifier surprised him. To be obsessed with his prey was not their kind's way. The boy could be distracting. His kind was not supposed to fall under the prey's charm. Potter was an exception. Severus could understand the beauty of the Potter spawn. He had hated the father with every fibre of his being. He'd prepared himself before the boy's entry into the Wizarding World with so much hate.

He. Hated. The boy.

But now his blonde companion was head over heels with the Gryffindor brat. Severus sighed heavily. He truly believe the boy was useless brat but…

"What do you think, Severus?" The sound of the old man broke his musing.

"Hm? Oh what is it again, Headmaster?"

"This year's Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Albus Dumbledore. His blue eyes glimmered under the light. Sometimes Severus wondered if the old man was on crack. "You know him, Severus." Really, he hated other people calling him intimately aside from his closest friends. With Dumbledore going around and around before dropping the bomb, eyes twinkling, grandfatherly smile, atrocious robes (tonight was neon purple, with a yellow moon and stars)… "Remus Lupin was delighted to accept the vacancy."

Severus almost spluttered, "What? Headmaster…"

"Now, now, dear boy, I know you weren't friends before but surely after these years you can bury your, ah, misunderstandings…" smiled the Headmaster.

The Potions Master suddenly felt a headache coming. They were right down /sworn/ enemies. Here and outside Hogwarts. Especially outside of Hogwarts.

Speak of the Devil. The rouge creature just entered from the side door and greeted the staff, not looking at Severus Snape. Yet. And when he did, the temperature dropped several degrees; frozen fire cracking, imaginary snake and lion appeared behind them oblivious to the rest except the young blonde at the Slytherin table.

Ignoring the sparks shooting between the two men, Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster greeted the man. "Remus, my boy. Welcome, welcome. Have a seat then."

Lupin and he managed to break their staring. The Wizard nodded and quirked a smile.

The level of noise rose up as more curious students watched the head table and wondered about the newcomer. Lupin was dressed like a rouge hunter, a little wild thing, even with tattered, faded, white robes.

After the customary introduction to the rest of the staff and the students, the Potions Master excused himself from the table, claiming he needed to prepare for tomorrow's class.

He was just turning his way to the hallway to his chamber when his enchanted senses tingled some sort of danger. Severus knew he was being followed, but he thought the other man wouldn't foolishly attack him in Hogwarts, known to be neutral ground.

The enraged creature almost landed the first blow. Luckily, Severus had enough training to turn around and sidestepped his attacker. He returned the blow in kind. The air crackled around them.

Severus saw a glint of steel aiming for his side. He crouched almost immediately, but it managed to gash his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. He hissed between his clenched teeth.

Again, his attacker swept his foot under Severus and tackled the Potions Master onto the ground. Severus snarled, landing on his back. A hand gripped his neck and pinned him with sheer brute strength. The other hand raised the steel object, a dagger, and it plunged. The other man's brown eyes gleamed predatory in gold.

**_ Somnia Memorias _**

The air shifted once again as Severus knocked the dagger from his opponent's hand. Before he could throw him off, another hand, with sharp pointed claws, descended to end his life for good this time. The Potions Master only had a few seconds to think something to save his ass.

"/_stupefy_/," cried another voice, successfully rendering the attacker bounded and gagged. The golden-eyed enemy went rigid; his claws dropped an inch from Severus' neck, barely cutting a few strands of hair.

Severus pushed the body off of him. Black eyes momentarily stared at golden brown full with hate. Really, they were /supposed/ to bury their misunderstandings, forgive and forget. Was the Headmaster kidding? Sometimes Dumbledore was just that, an insane old coot.

He sat down with a sudden, splitting headache. His brow knitted together, his skin was paler and his hands trembled slightly. Luckily they were deep in the dungeons; no one ever ventured this way, not even his Slytherin students.

He glanced at his rescuer. Lucifier, in his Draco form, was leaning against the stoned walls, out of breath, with his black mahogany wand raised. The boyish blonde always had a knack for good timing, which often saved them from trouble in the past.

He hated to admit it, but he'd have to thank the bastard later.

Now back to the problem at hand.

"Alright?" asked Lucifier, without looking at his companion. Instead, he trained his eyes at the petrified lump. Now, you have got to admire the man. Without even breaking a sweat or creasing his meticulous robes, he was able to catch up with them, rescue Severus and capture the other man.

"I'm fine," replied Severus, standing up and dusting his black robes. Straightened, he was also looking at their prisoner. He knew his back was sore and his ankle sprained, but nothing too serious. He took his wand and levitated the lump into his private workroom.

Lucifier put up a series of locking, silencing and private spells behind them as he closed the door.

"What should we do with him, Severus?"

"Dissect him and make him my next potion experiment?" asked Severus, dryly. He went to his liquor collection and poured two glasses of scotch, then offered one to Lucius.

Lucius twitched as he accepted the glass. Turning back, the both of them stared into a pair of glaring, menacing golden eyes, and sighed. "What should we do with Lupin, Severus?" asked the blonde.

The Potions Master shrugged, his eyes trailing along their petrified captive warily. "Any reason why you attacked me?" he asked the new DADA professor with interest. Lupin gave out a muffled sound with an angry tone. "Right, sorry. /_Enervate_!/"

When Lupin was released from the full body bind, Lupin swore out loud but didn't attack them. At this point, it was to his disadvantage to engage in a fight, with two against one. And they knew it, seeing the blonde's and the Dark Master's smug faces.

"It's against the magical law to attack the enemy in sacred ground," said Severus after a long silence.

"Oh? Isn't the point of the game eliminating potential players?" Lupin reverted to a kind, lovely looking persona, smile and all that.

Lucius sneered. "The players aren't complete yet; as the rules state, no fighting should occur in sacred ground."

Lupin just shrugged. True to his nature, he just wanted to scratch the itch of having to put up with the two dark creatures he was now facing.

Severus and Lucius knew Lupin knew the consequences of fighting to kill. All Lupin wanted was to scare the older man. Severus scoffed at that, as if the man could scare the centuries old Undead.

"So, the Vatican has sent its hounds, eh?"

Lupin glared at the blonde student. "At least, I'm not /Voldemort's/ pet." Then he smiled again, "You lot seem to kiss his ass a lot. Does grovelling to the mad man turn you on?"

"Why you-!!"

Severus grabbed his friend's arm in a tight grip. "Lucius, calm down. He was just pushing your button."

The DADA Professor chuckled lightly and stared at them challengingly.

"The Watcher might favour the Hounds, but Vatican dogs should just keep to yourselves. You are in our soil; as such, you'd better abide by the rules, or England will be your death, my /friend/," said Severus, stressing his point. "Sacred ground or not, we are still under the Black Knights' jurisdiction. We are no more a pet than you are."

"Of course/Severus/," agreed Lupin, much too quickly to their liking.

Severus also loathed people calling his name intimately like that. Oh, they'd known each other for so long, since they were back at school. Lupin always nudged his friends, moving behind the screen, to urge the fighting between two rival houses, Gryffindor and Slytherin. Without his strength as the Undead (such power in the Sacred ground was rendered useless, unless He or She participated in /the/ game), Lupin's friends used to go 'Snivellus hunting', until Lucius had taken Severus under his wings. Oh, how he hated Lupin's Marauders. The dark man glared at Lupin.

Lupin smirked easily. "Can you let me go now? I promise I'll behave. Until the game starts, of course," he said as he walked toward the door. "I'll see you later, Black Knights."

Lucius and Severus watched Lupin leave disdainfully.

As the door closed, Lucius turned to Severus. "I have to report this to Cain; the Brotherhood has made the next move."

"So you'll leave sooner then?"

"I have to. Tonight. Tell that to Dumbledore, using the emergency family excuse," said Lucius, distracted. "And, Severus, please watch over Potter. I'm worried the boy will be involved in the Game."

"Are you sure, Lucius?"Severus wanted to ask about Harry. No. Bad tought. _Potter._ Yes. What about him then?

"I have to see Cain, and make sure of it. Remember whose son Harry is. I have a feeling Lupin also came here to see the boy. So please?" Lucius looked really worried and restless. On one side he needed to report to Cain but on the other side he couldn't, didn't want, to leave his blood mate.

"You don't have to ask, Lucius." Severus sighed. What ever happened happens.

**_ Somnia Memorias _**

Remus Jacob Lupin strolled down the hall to his chamber. After making sure his chamber was secure, he penned a letter that looked like a report. He quickly finished it up with his clan imago and his name. Calling his white eagle, he attached the letter on his pet messenger. "Be a good girl, Nifelheim, and send this to Abel." The eagle purred under his fingers, then cawed once before taking off into the sky.

Remus's eyes turned golden once more as he watched it until Nifelheim disappeared into the night.

**_ Somnia Memorias _**

Two hooded men walked slowly in the darkness, passing the protection ward to the other side.

"Be careful, Lucius," said the Head of Slytherin.

The blonde smiled softly. "Don't worry, Severus. I will be back soon."

A crack of Apparition later, he was gone. Severus waited a few moments before he returned back to the castle.

**_ Somnia Memorias _**

Harry stopped at the empty hall, leaning against the walls. Suddenly he was out of breath and his chest throbbed with pain. He clenched his hand into a fist, feeling the sudden tightness suffocate him. He took a couple of deep breaths before it eased into a dull ache.

He looked outside the window with a frown. His whole being felt like it lost something.

**_ Somnia Memorias _**

Two weeks. Two bloody weeks had passed in sheer pain. Harry had escaped from his friends into the Room of Requirement to seek a quiet, undisturbed sleep. But he turned and turned restlessly on the makeshift bed.

His skin was irritated and his head was in constant pain. It was hard to breathe and his throat felt dry. He was feverish and sweating.

It was hard to hide his condition from Ron and Hermione. Luckily they were busy all of a sudden and found excuses to do their own business. Normally, he would be curious. But now he was glad to avoid questions.

He didn't like to check on Madam Pomfrey. Harry hated the hospital wing and its constraining walls. No doubt the Medi-witch witch would alert his Head of House and the Headmaster, and that was the last thing he wanted.

/It is probably only a cough/, thought Harry. He would get well soon if he slept it off. Yeah. He would.

He coughed heavily.

/Heartbeat/

"Wha…"

/Heartbeat/

Echoes inside his head.

/Heartbeat/

"Stop…" Agony.

/Heartbeat/

"Anyone…"  
/Heartbeat/

"Help….?"

/Heartbeat/

**_ Somnia Memorias _**** fin**  
**TBC to Lacrimosa Dies Illa**

G


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